


Wanderlust

by clokcwork_dragon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Multi, Wanderlust2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokcwork_dragon/pseuds/clokcwork_dragon
Summary: A collection of drabbles for the Seteth Wanderlust event on twitter. Features Seteth's love for traveling across the land, his love for humans and his duty as their protector.Day 1: DuscurDay 2: AlmyraDay 3: Brigid/DagdaDay 4: ShambhalaDay 5: MorfisDay 6: ZanadoDay 7: Fire Emblem Setting of Choice
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem), Indech & Seteth (Fire Emblem), Macuil & Seteth (Fire Emblem), Rhea & Seteth (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Duscur

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Duscur 
> 
> (includes mentions of one of my fe3h nabatean OCs, Denwen).

The dragon was perched on top of a rock jutting out of the face of one of the mountains that surrounded the valley. A valley that he recalled had once been lush with life, green as the very moss that covered his scales and full of wonder.

Now, none of it remained. It was all charred earth, the skeletal remnants of scorched tree barks, and human bones scattered across the plains with no headstone to mark their final resting plains.

He could still recall the peaceful days he’d spent there with his brother, Denwen; the Guardian of Duscur. How they’d chased each other through the forests as children, bargained with the merchants for fresh fruit picked right off the orchards, left little blessings tucked in corners of small thatches for the humans to find. As they grew, Denwen and Cichol came to be known as the Twin Guardians of Duscur. Denwen was its night, and Cichol was its day. Both turning the great wheel of time in an endless cycle.

The cycle was first obscured by Nabatea’s destruction. The damned Agarthans claimed their lives of so many of his kin, and those who remained fled as far as possible to hide from those who wished to turn their bones and hearts into killing instruments. Denwen left for Almyra, and Cichol never saw him again. He himself went into hiding with his comatose daughter, and thus Duscur was left without its ever-vigilant protectors.

It would be literal aeons until he heard from the Land of Plenty again. Shortly after he -now Seteth- and Cethleann -now Flayn- had settled into Garreg Mach, the disturbing news of the Tragedy of Duscur reached them. The knights of the Kingdom framed it as but a necessary evil, a rightful punishment falling upon those who had plotted to assassinate their king. But Seteth knew that the people he had come to love and protect would never act in such an abhorrent manner. The land of Duscur was a land of honour and dignity, and this so-called plot went against both.

So he had investigated, as thoroughly as humanly possible. He’d even gotten close to accidentally blowing his cover, but it had been worth it in the end. For he had come upon answers that proved him right. Although, as for whether or not they quelled his pain for the loss of so many innocent souls… that, was an entirely different matter.

It had been the dreadful, accursed Agarthans again. The dwellers of Shambhala had once again destroyed something he was supposed to protect. They had once again ended hundreds of life for naught but their own pleasure, their own goals. And while they were doing so, again and again, he’d plainly hid behind stone walls, afraid of even his own shadow. Unable to do anything to protect the ones he’d sworn to guard with his lifeblood.

And the wasteland that now lay in front of him had been the result. His fault. Only death, ash and ruin.

Seteth let out a small sigh and unfurled six great, feathery wings, obscuring the sun itself as he took to the skies. He circled the lifeless valley once, twice, three times. He did not know what exactly he was looking for- it was more of a pull, a tug of instinct at the back of his mind that prevented him from leaving just yet. He would search, again and again, until he found what he was looking for.

… _There._ The great beast made a small, whimper-like sound from the back of his throat. He drew his wings to his sides and dived straight as an arrow until his feet touched the centre of the valley, the ashes swirling around him like a black mist as he landed.

When the mist cleared, there was no dragon to be seen. Only a man, with verdant green hair and eyes. He was crouching in front of a tiny sapling peeking from the soot-covered ground; the only sign of life in this valley of death and sorrow.

Seteth’s fingers caressed the small leaves as tenderly as a parent caresses their newborn child. It was little more than a twig, but it would grow, and its green leaves would eventually shield the land from the merciless glare of the sun.

The beginning of new life.

Seteth drew something from his belt- a dagger, sheathed in a gilded gold-and-silver hilt. He sliced the blade clear across his palm and let the blood flow into the dry earth, that drank it without mercy. As soon as he deemed it had been enough, he stood and drew back, wiping his bleeding hand against his tunic. A small, rare smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw the sapling glow faintly under the sun, its little branches slowly spreading out further and further, its leaves and buds unfurling like sleeping children waking from their slumber.

Seteth turned, and walked away. It was a long way back to Garreg Mach. Back home. He shouldn’t dally any longer.

Behind him, the tree grew, and fresh green grass sprouted from the soil that had been watered by his blood.


	2. Almyra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Almyra 
> 
> "When lost, look to the stars to find your way home". Seteth, on the run from the Empire with Flayn, wishes that there was a home the stars could show him the way to.

Almyra had always been beautiful, with its sprawling sandbanks, glimmering ocean waters to the south, and lush greenery to the north. Many found it naught but a lonely desert, but Seteth… Seteth had always found the quiet calming, and the eternal warmth of the sun inviting.

Besides, as things were, the desert was the safest place he and Flayn could be at the moment. Edelgard’s forces had overtaken Garreg Mach, Byleth had fallen defending Rhea, and all that the duo knew and loved had been ripped away from them.

As soon as he had realised that there simply was no winning the battle of Garreg Mach, Seteth hadn’t thought anymore about it. He had grabbed a protesting Flayn by the arm, ripping her away from her friends and dragging her to where Andromache was waiting, near the burning heap of stalls and tents that had become of the marketplace. He had strapped her to Andromache’s back, and jumping on behind her, had urged the wyvern to take them away as far as possible. Flayn screamed and cried and said they couldn’t -shouldn’t- leave their friends behind when they were sure to die, but Seteth was, for once, immune to her pleas.

Was there guilt for having abandoned the students and the knights? Perhaps. But he had risked his daughter’s life for the sake of humanity before, and it was a mistake that he would rather die than repeat. He would not place her in the path of such danger ever again, even if it made him the most wretched being in all of Fodlan.

Flayn obviously didn’t seem to think that way, and was even now, two weeks after their escape, refusing to talk to him or even face him. They flew in circles for most of the day so Andromache could scavenge for food for all three of them, and rested in the nights. They had no supplies with them at all, so they made do with their clothes on their back, and the wyvern’s wings for shelter against the nocturnal freeze of the desert’s nights. Flayn always dismounted and walked around as soon as they’d touch ground, and when she came back ready to sleep she would tuck herself in Andromache’s vacant flank instead of snuggling up to her father. It stung, but Seteth didn’t blame her. He didn’t blame himself either; he knew that he would make the same choice all over again, if he had to. Let Flayn hate him; so long as she lived, so long as she was safe, it didn’t matter.

Like other nights, Seteth lay against Andromache’s warm, scaly side and watched the stars overhead. An endless sea of black velvet, dotted with glimmering pinpricks here and there. Even here in the middle of nowhere, the Blue Sea Star shined down on them; the Home of the Goddess, humans called it. Seteth wondered, if only briefly, whether his Mother was up there keeping watch over him and Flayn, in their hour of need.

Everything was quiet. The sand underneath him was still warm, conserving some of the day’s heat, but the breeze that fluttered past him was cool and smelled of distant rain- perhaps there was a storm somewhere in the far north. Or perhaps he just wished for it to be. They’d been able to find enough clean water so far, but Seteth missed the rain, and the abundance of life that bloomed after it had passed.

He missed home.

 _Home…_ Garreg Mach had been his home for many years, but what he truly missed was Zanado. The lush hanging gardens, the roaring waterfalls that sang through the canyon’s silence at night, the sweet glow of the candlelight behind every window. The laugh of his Mother, the squabbling of his siblings… here, in the quiet of the desert, he could almost hear it all again, distant in the wind. Part of him wondered what would happen if he got up and tried to follow the ghosts that called to him, deeper into the endless expanse of sand. Perhaps he would find his brother Cernunnos, sleeping beneath the sand dunes as he’d always done. He’d been such a bright soul, his brother; the Guardian of Almyra, he’d been called, but he was no fierce warrior. His hair was green-and-brown, and his freckled skin dark and kissed by the sun. He loved to sing and dance, and he would guide lost travellers back home, or to the nearest oasis where they could find shelter, food and water. His song could be heard across the desert in the quiet nights, and the people of Almyra used to say that he was the very spirit of the desert itself, that his song was the whispers of the sand and the call of the wind. Was that song what Seteth heard now? Would he find his brother at the end of it?

He blinked, suddenly snapping back to reality with a small trill from Andromache. He realised he was standing, and that he had moved a few steps away from her. The wyverns grey-black head was up, and she stared at him with confusion in her amber eyes. Seteth let out a small sigh.

“Apologies, my girl. I simply… dreamed.”

It hadn’t been a dream, exactly, more like the ghost of a memory. But then again, wasn’t that what dreams were? Intangible ghosts of wishes, fears or memories?

He rubbed Andromache’s hide while he sat back down next to her. His other hand worried at his head. Thinking…

“…Flayn?” He dared whisper after a few moments. Perhaps all the nostalgia had made him reckless, but he figured things couldn’t get worse between them anyway. “Are you awake?”

For a while he received no answer, and he reasoned that she was ignoring him, or perhaps she was just asleep. He was about to lie down on his side as well, when she whispered back.

“I’m awake.”

Surprised, Seteth blinked. He hadn’t expected an answer, much less something that wasn’t outright hostile. He realised he hadn’t planned of what he wanted to say; he’d only wanted to talk to his daughter.

“I…” _Come, fool, think_. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry. But… do not push me away. I couldn’t bear it.”

Flayn, again, remained silent for a bit. Then there was a shuffling noise, and seconds later she appeared in front of him, having walked around Andromache’s already-sleeping form.

“You should have thought of it before you so cowardly ran away, and left our friends to die.” She said, and while there was a bite in her voice, there was no real anger. Not anymore. It was the first time she was looking at him directly after the battle, too. Seteth almost sobbed in relief.

“It is true that I am a coward. But I would rather the whole world scorned and spat at me, than watch you get hurt again, my dear. If we’d stayed, if they hurt you, or if.. if they took you again, I…”

He hid his face in his hands, out of words and exhausted.

“I am sorry.” Was all he said again. To his surprise, he heard Flayn settling down next to him. She didn’t come to curl up by his shoulder as she usually did, but it was certainly something.

“I know.” She whispered. Her voice was bitter, but not angry. “I’m sorry, too. I know how much you worry, and how… how much pain you were in, while I slept all those years ago.”

“The worst pain imaginable...” He had nearly gone mad, in fact, but Flayn needed not know that.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close when she didn’t push him away.

“Flayn, I would do anything to see you happy, safe. There is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for it, not a single thing. Do you believe me?”

“Of course, father.” Here in the desert, with no one but the stars to overhear, there was no reason to hide. “But I don’t want to simply be safe. I don’t want to just survive. I want to _live._ ”

Her voice dropped, and he could tell there were tears in her eyes. “Is that so much to ask for?”

Seteth pushed her away gently, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. Both their eyes were wet, as they looked at each other.

“There will come a day, my Light, when you will. There will come a day when you won’t need to hide any longer, and you will be able to wear your hair as you want it, and speak about who you are freely, and make friends, and take control of your own life. I swear to you that I will do anything in my power to give you that life, Cethleann. I swear it.”

Flayn let out a small sob, burying her face in his chest and clinging to him like her life depended on it. Seteth held her tight, his own tears sliding soundlessly down his cheeks and falling upon her verdant curls, matted with sand.

“We could live.” Flayn murmured between racking sobs. “We could go far, far away, where people do not know about Crests, about gods… there must surely be a place where we can live in peace, and safety! Perhaps across the Great Sea… or…”

She lifted her head to the stars, and smiled a little, wistfully.

“…Or somewhere up there. Do you think we would be welcome, where Grandmother came from?”

Seteth couldn’t help but let out a small, tired laugh. He wiped his tears, and then Flayn’s.

“I am afraid we cannot cross the stars as Mother did. We are of her flesh, but we do not have all of her power. But… there might be a place, and we will find it if it exists. And it does exist, for this world is vast and unending.”

“Like this desert.” Flayn whined in a sudden bout of childishness, and Seteth chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“Yes,” he said, looking at the stars while he held his daughter’s hand, and let the night sing to them “like this desert.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @flaythleann  
> Event organised by: @who_has_an_idea (twitter)


End file.
